


THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED: JIM & OSWALD

by MsMiaMimi (Mc_Mimi)



Series: THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!! [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Complete, First Time, Gordon is a Jock, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Penguin knows how things work, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, i think, in theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc_Mimi/pseuds/MsMiaMimi
Summary: Self-Challenge Series, cause... why not?  I'm sure this kind of thing has been done before... It's a trope after all.Jim and Oswald in a vague setting just sharing a bed.  At first.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim splashes his face in the bathroom and stares in the mirror wondering about the next steps he can take.  He’s on the run for various reasons, with his good buddy Harvey leading the search for his head over a simple misunderstanding.  He spent a day hiding in sewers and recovering from a beatdown by Grundy.  He welcomed the shower and was thankful for the duffle of plain street clothes given by his currently unhinged benefactor.

“Edward, answer the phone this instant!”

Jim rolls his eyes.  “ _Why him?  Why always him,_ ” he thinks.  Oswald conveniently appeared with a strategy to clear Jim’s name, apprehend their new masked adversary and find a way back to the top of Gotham’s Underworld.  But for now, they're here.  In a seedy motel on the edge of the narrows, hiding out in the only vacant room.  Jim’s in no hurry to open the door. 

“Jim!”

But that doesn’t mean anything in the long run, of course. 

“Jim!”  Oswald hammers on the door with his cane, “Some of us would like to shower before the sewer water settles into a BACTERIA GELATIN on our skin!”

“Pipe down, Oswald.”  Jim flushes the toilet just for the hell of it and opens the door to the angry little mobster.  He lets Oswald shoulder his way in and shoves Jim out, slamming the door and screaming on the other side.

“When was the last time someone cleaned this place!”

Jim rolls his eyes and settles down on the bed.  He stares up at the ceiling, concentrates on letting his breathing even out.  If he has to, he can sleep anywhere.  And he’s already gone all day and night without closing his eyes.  He needs to nap for however long he can while he’s safe.  Still, his hand grips his gun and he doesn’t hesitate to sit up and point it when he hears a door open.

“Honestly, Jim?  I can’t believe you’re touching that bed.”  He limps into the room wearing a stolen pair of sweatpants and someone’s Christmas sweater.  He looks around the room and judges the seating inadequate too.  Complains about the antenna tv, the broken mini fridge and the wobbly lamp, the stained carpets.

He complains until Jim feels safe enough to let his guard down and really sleep, knowing Oswald is angry enough with the room to deal with anyone at the door alone.

Jim wakes up a few hours later to the sounds of the tv static and a weatherman predicting rain in the morning.  Oswald sits at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed.  He turns back to frown at Jim, “Don’t think saving me back there evens the ledger, my friend.  By my count, your debt is mountainous.  You're lucky I don’t report to credit bureaus.”

“Ha, ha,” says Jim unsmiling.  He turns on his side, feeling sore but at least he wasn't shot this time.  “What time’s the pickup?”

Oswald grins, “Let’s play a game.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Oswald.”

“Let’s play, ‘How to sound more humble and thankful’, it’s my personal favorite.  You start.”

“I can’t play right now, too sleepy.”  He flashes his teeth and Oswald’s face gets red and splotchy.  He throws a little tantrum but Jim blanks out for most of it, feeling every muscle in his body ache with exhaustion.

“I don’t believe it!  How dare you Snore when I’m talking to you!”

 

* * *

 

Jim's not sure of how much time has passed when he next wakes up.  But there’s the pleasant warmth of a clean body tucked under him and he instinctively reaches out to tug it closer. 

“Ed?”

Jim opens his eyes and reality crashes down on his happy cocoon.  He squashes feeling alarmed or repulsed when he hears another soft whimper escape the Penguin.  Oswald is a confusing subject for Jim.  At turns, he's maniacal, violent, superior, haughty, and demanding.  But under the layers of hostility and machinations, he’s the most vulnerable and fragile creature Jim has ever met.

Oswald whimpers again, and Jim concludes he’s having a bad dream.  Or a sad dream.  He thinks he hears Ed’s name slip out a second time, and Oswald curls in tighter on himself, not minding Jim’s heavy arm around him.

At that moment, Jim can’t be bothered to care what it’ll look like in the full light of day.  He wraps his arm tight around Oswald’s birdcage chest and pulls him close to keep warm.  He puts his head on top of Oswald’s and hums a moment while the smaller man relaxes and goes back to sleeping deeply.

And with no one around to judge him for it, Jim kisses the top of the inky black head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right... I didn't think I was going to add anything but then... *shrugs*
> 
> Mind the rating change.

**“What are you doing?!”**

That was expected, thinks Jim.  But he doesn’t backpaddle or hide his actions, “You were crying or something.  Go to back to sleep.”

Oswald struggles against Jim’s arm, “I will do no such thing, you… you masher!  Off!  Now!”  Jim imagines him dressed like an old prairie bride on her wedding night complete with bonnet.  His face cracks before he can control it and Oswald lashes out, “This is not funny!”

Jim sighs and lets Oswald sit up and pout with hands fisted in front of him.  “Calm down.  I didn’t mean anything _nefarious_.  You just looked… I don’t know.”  He shrugs, “Cute.”

“Cute?!”  Oswald’s face darkens with a half-dozen different expressions and a rosy blush under it all.  “How dare you!  I am a full grown man!  I have never been called cute!  Not once in my life!” 

Jim snickers, turning over on his back.  “Seriously?  From anyone else that would be sad.  From you, it’s a blatant lie.  No one gets called _Penguin_ without being at least a _little_ cute.”  He smirks enjoying the show of Oswald with ruffled feathers, sputtering and reddening while trying to think of something to say.  Jim ends up smiling so hard his face hurts, and he lays back on his side.  “Well.  You can stay mad or you get some sleep.”  He closes his eyes, “Just don’t stab me or anything for daring to give you a cuddle when it looked like you needed it.”

The room gets quiet but for his even breathes and Oswald huffing on his side of the bed.  There’s some shifting and after a moment the warmth is pressed to his front.  Jim smiles into Oswald’s hair just as he defends himself, “I don’t need anyone.  I don’t need hugs.  I don’t need to be wrapped up in anyone’s arms.  And I don’t need your pity, Jim Gordon.”

“I didn’t say it was pity, Oswald."  He works his arm under Oswald's and around his chest again.  "You certainly have pitiful moments, but I’ve never met anyone more resilient.  Get some sleep or something and pretend nothing awkward happened, okay.”  He smirks again and gives the oh so feared Penguin, a little squeeze.  “Besides.  I can hold it over you a while.  Even out that debt your so fond of calling me on.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

The teasing comes easy to Jim, like pestering a rookie or hazing a newcomer to the barracks.  He’d hate to admit it to anyone, but he’s become fond of the little bird that just won’t stay down.  Even with his wings clipped.  “No.  I wouldn’t hold something like this over you.   Hey, you wanna hear a secret?”

“What?”

“You were a good mayor.”

“Oh, now I know what it is,” he pats Jim’s hand but doesn’t try to move away.  “Grundy dropped you too hard on the head.  You’re concussed.  And now you’re up talking nonsense to keep from sleeping too deeply.”

“It’s not nonsense.  A part of me had hoped… that maybe… saving you from Falcone had come out right.  Maybe you’d do right by the city.  Maybe things would work out.”

“Things _were_ working out.  But none of you were satisfied, and as usual, I was betrayed on all fronts.  Just like now.  Same old, same old.  At this point, I don’t expect any better of my so-called friends.  You’re all a bunch and snakes and untrusting opportunists looking out for number one.”

“Ouch.”

“Hm,” snickers Oswald. “I hope that hit close to home.  I’m the only one thinking about the bigger picture.  Money and power and control is the only way to give this city stability.  It’s the only way to keep it from combusting.  And there you are, hindering me at every turn.  Destroying everything I build up.  Time and time again.  Taking things from me…”

“Hey, it’s not like that.”  Jim not sure why he wants to Oswald to understand.  “I never once tried to just… I’m not Ed.  It’s nothing personal.”

Oswald stares up wide-eyed for a few beats while holding his breath.  He’s on the edge of another meltdown or tantrum.  And Jim, hands thinking before his mind, wraps his fingers around Oswald’s throat in warning.  Oswald gasps and shuts his eyes, an unreadable look crossing his face before his reaches up to hold on Jim’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” starts Jim.  He’s not sure why he’s apologizing.  If it's their position, the familiarity,  the truth ringing between them.  He just knows he’s at fault.  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Oswald surprises Jim, still not trying to get away.  Still holding on to the wrist even as Jim's fingers ease into pressing light against his pulse.  “You did.  And ever the detective, you deduced it one.”  He blinks away a single tear rolls down his cheek and wets Jim’s fingers.  He opens his eyes and looks back, expression open.  Jim has grown used to seeing Oswald barely hold rage and fear and grief back, he expects madness and violence.  Noise and movement.  But Oswald is still except for the trembling of his little frame in Jim’s arms and rapid pulse under Jim’s fingers.  “I am a pitiful creature after all.”

“Hardly.”  Jim swallows a lump in his throat letting his heart and body steer the ship.  Since his mind is screaming at him to get up and disturb this rare stillness.  Jim lets his forefinger drag under Oswald's chin, surprised to feel it smooth and silky.  And the idle thought of whether the Penguin even has to shave brings up the memory of Bulloch teasing him in the bullpen.  Calling Oswald his 'crazy Lil' side-thing' that got away.  Implying something vulgar kept Jim from dealing with their most notorious, and recurring problem.  But that was just ‘guy’ talk.  The kind that Jim was used to after years of working through boy’s clubs.  And years of Harvey’s sense of humor.

“What are you doing?”  Oswald’s voice is soft and breathy.  “Why are you…  What do you want?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say ‘nothing’ and turn over or retreat to the room’s lone chair. Brush the whole incident under the rug.  But unlike with most of his encounters with the fairer sex, there’s no static charge between them, there’s no desperate itch to scratch.  He doesn’t have to prove himself or validate his actions.  Apart from Harvey, there’s no one in Gotham who knows him better.  And perhaps sees him more clearly.  Jim stares into the clear gray eyes and frowns.  “I don’t know.  What do you think I want?”


	3. Chapter 3

If someone were to open a book that detailed Jim’s sex life up to this point, it would list a number of… interesting individuals.  Interesting people catch his eye, more so than the typically beautiful.  From the first girl he ever kissed (a sweet girl called Looney Tunes Tina by their peers in seventh grade) to the first boy he went down on after recruitment (a good man called Dudely Dude Right).  By and large, Jim is drawn to people who walk their own paths, even when it leads to fire.  They’re stronger for it.  He’s drawn to Lee the same way he liked Looney Tina.  And Barbara Kean.  And Valerie Vale.  And Sophia Falcone.  If one overlooks the broad strokes of their histories, they’re all genius at what they do. And Jim has rarely met their like in men.  And Jim hasn’t been with another man since drunken flirting led to an awkward breakfast in Harvey Dent’s kitchen.

Oswald is not a mystery.  His genius is right there in the open.  He emotes before he can think better of it, but that’s what makes him an honest criminal.  Jim can trust him to tell the truth at any given time (as long as he already thought of the obvious and _not so_ obvious reasons Oswald would lie).

Oswald lays there in Jim’s arms, with a hand wrapped around his throat on top of a sleazy bed.  He blinks up at Jim’s question, and his mouth parts like it’s found the answer then closes like he’s not sure.  After a long quiet pause, he closes his eyes and tilts his head forward.  “I am not a man driven by carnal needs, Jim.  And I don’t indulge in one-night stands or regrettable trysts.”  Despite his words, he turns in Jim’s arms and stares down at his lips.  “So, I’m going to need you to agree to terms.”

“Terms?”  This is not expected, thinks Jim.  How very _like_ Oswald.

“One,” says Oswald while mimicking Jim, wrapping his skinny fingers around Jim’s neck.  Jim thinks of all the people the younger man has murdered with his hands, perhaps not with brute strength but with a violent determination that Jim’s never really seen elsewhere.  Even in Gotham.  “You will not speak of this lapse of sanity on both our parts to anyone, ever.  Ever.”

“Right,” says Jim.  “And what crazy thing are we about to get up to?”  He smiles again if only to make Oswald squirm.  But it backfires.  There’s nothing shy or inexperience in the look he gets.  A look that sends a shock straight to his groin. 

Who knew, thinks Jim.  He’s so used to the screaming and blood-spattering.  He never thought of Oswald in this kind of light.  Oswald’s tantrums are childish so perhaps Jim as always thought of him as such.  The Penguin was not a sexual creature.  But that was before.  With the dark of the room with the neon lights outside the window giving everything a reddish glow, Jim wonders if he’s dreaming.  Oswald’s hair clean of its gel is fluffy and soft looking, crowning him with inky, feathery curls and Jim wants to run his fingers through it or worse.  _Pull_.   Jim keeps his eyes forward and tries not to think too hard about the hand disappearing between them.  Oswald pulls Jim’s cock free of his borrowed bottoms and rubs a thumb over the head, tapping the slit where it’s already tacky with precum.  “There’s a second term.”

Jim groans, his hand gives Oswald’s throat a light squeeze but he’s not sure if it’s a warning.  “Second what?”  He says intelligently.

“You can’t hurt me.  If you can imagine, I already live in constant pain.”  Oswald’s eyes are steady, and Jim is slow to put together his meaning before he remembers the bad leg.  Oswald turns over to his back, “So.  If I just let you… You must promise to make it good for me.  But be careful.  Can you be careful, Jim?”

Jim nods, not knowing what else to say.  The hand on his cock has made up his mind and he agrees to the terms.  “I can be careful,” he wheezes.

“Good.”  Oswald uses his free hand to curl around the back of Jim’s head and pulls him in for a soft kiss.  A gentle nip at his bottom lip and they bump noses.  Oswald smiles up at him, “Let’s see how well you follow directions.”

 “Fuck.”

“Language, Jim.”  Oswald nips hard at Jim’s chin.  “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk.  Can you agree to that?”

“Fuck… I mean,” Jim shakes his head, clearing his thoughts long enough to squeak out another agreement.

Oswald’s smile is wide and genuine.  And Jim can’t remember the last time he’s seen this.  There was that night, years ago when Oswald was inviting Jim to his club, handing over his little card with such a happy look.  And the look he had when Jim came…

“Fuck.”

“Jim,” says Oswald.  He takes his hand off Jim’s cock and crosses his arms.  “I’m not playing here.  I won’t tolerate that kind of language.  I’m not some red-light whore, Jim.”

Jim frowns thinking of how the room is red-pink hued and hazy and Oswald is spread out under him.  He thinks better of saying anything smart out loud.  Not with his cock out and Oswald’s tendency to knife people.  “My apologies.”

Oswald grins, “Good.”  He bites his lip.  “Now up.  Come here.  I can’t imagine someone like you knowing the finer points of this kind of communion, but I’m in a generous mood.  I’ll teach you.”  He spreads his knees apart and Jim moves to settle on top of him, sighing when his bare cock slips just under Oswald’s top and skates against his belly.

The skin on skin contact has Jim keening.  He could snap and flip the bird over, but he’s in no hurry to correct Oswald’s assumption.  He swallows the thought and holds his body rigid.  “Like this?”

“Well, hardly.”  He looks smug and superior and Jim doesn’t mind at all.  Oswald hesitates a moment before sitting up and pulling the sweater up over his head.  Jim doesn’t think before bending down to mouth on the exposed skin.  “Oh, now wait a minute!”  Oswald swats Jim gently on the shoulder.  “There are a few things you need to know.”

Jim growls low in his throat, “You go ahead and talk.  I’m busy.”  He puts his hands on Oswald’s hips, holding him in place while he sucks just under his pulse point.  He’s curious to see if Oswald even knows how sex works or if he’s just working with theory.

Oswald moans and lets his head fall back.  He seems content to let Jim manhandle him until he flat on his back and his legs spread wider.  He makes a pained noise when Jim latches on a nipple and teeths it while his hands slip under Oswald’s waistband.  His left squeezing Oswald’s skinny ass while his right gets a firm hold on Oswald’s cock.  Jim raises a brow and sits back enough to take in the sight when Oswald pushes him back, “You’re getting ahead of yourself.  You promised you would mind.”

Jim sighs and sits back on his heels, “Sorry.”  He fidgets a little but waits for orders.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim looks down and takes in everything properly.  The pale skin, freckles, scars, and the uncut cock lying there, half-limp despite Jim’s efforts.  “Just tell me what to do.  What do you like Oswald?”  Jim sits back enough to let Oswald kick free of his sweatpants.  He helps with the tangle it makes and helps Oswald stretch out his bad leg until it looks more comfortable.  Jim never imaged the knee and ankle would still look so bruised and inflamed after all this time.  But the Penguin was never one to get checked out by an actual doctor.  Jim runs his fingers up the surprisingly shapely thighs and combs his fingers through the dark curls over the still half-interested cock.  Jim’s ready to go down and show him a thing or two but Oswald pulls him up by the shoulders.  “What?  What I’d do now?”

Oswald gives him a brazen stare that almost has Jim coming.  He reaches down and takes Jim's hand to kiss his fingertips before sucking down the index and middle finger.  He keeps his eyes on Jim’s the whole time. 

“Fuck,” says Jim breathlessly.  Oswald bites down around the knuckle.  Jim gasps at the pain, but figures he deserves it.  Rules and all.  “Sorry,” he says again while pumping his fingers into Oswald’s mouth.  His other hand takes to rubbing soft circles on Oswald’s side.  Jim’s own throat is dry and he wants nothing more than to get his lips around Oswald’s cock and prove he knows something after all.  To coax some reaction out of the stoic after this display.  But he settles for following orders and the strange thrill he feels at giving Oswald the reins.

Oswald lets go with an obscene lick to the underside of Jim’s fingers.  “Now.  You’re going to stretch me.  It’s not like being with a woman, Jim.  You can’t take me being wet enough for granted, understand?  Now carefully.”  He leads Jim’s hand down his body.  “Okay.”

Jim smirks, “Anything you say boss.”  Oswald gives him an eyeroll, but Jim doesn’t imagine the trembling skin under his fingers.  He skates his hand down the planes of Oswald’s belly and rubs over his sides and thighs before settling with Oswald’s good leg up and his ankle on Jim’s shoulder, hips raised enough to expose him to the light.  Jim spreads his cheeks and looks down at the little pink furl before circling it with a finger and watching Oswald for reaction. 

Oswald keens and shuts his eyes.  Not exactly a good sign, thinks Jim.  And it's worst when Jim slips in to the knuckle.  Oswald whimpers and covers his eyes.  “I wish there was something proper here to use…”

“In this kind of place?”  Jim looks to the wobbly bedside table.

Oswald moves his hips with Jim, “I know what you're thinking.  And the answer is no.  I will not use something that came from God Knows Where, up my ass.”

“Might have condoms.”

“No,” starts Oswald.  But then he sits up suddenly and looks over at the table.  “…well.  You are an amorous character.”

“Hey!”

“And I rather not catch whatever Crazy you gave Babs and Lee,” he laughs at his own joke while Jim moves away to investigate the drawer.

“Fuck,” says Jim.

“Language!  Honestly!  Can you not do better than that, Jim?”

Jim gives Oswald a crooked smile while showing off his find.  “Score.  On both accounts.”  Little packets of Astroglide and a handful of candy-red rubbers.  “Now, I got this covered.”

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Oswald, please.”  Looking down, Jim realizes their dress disparity isn’t working in his favor.  He strips out of his clothes with as much grace as he can manage.  Oswald gets a far-away look in his eyes and his mouth hangs open long enough for Jim to want to pat himself on the back.  He swallows the self-satisfied feeling and climbs back on the bed.  “I’ll be good,” he says smiling with all his teeth.  He realized early on that Oswald seems to like his smile, even when it’s fake.  Even all toothy when he must look like the big bad wolf.  And look at him now, cornering Little Red.  He can’t keep his voice from sounding hoarse and needy.  He begs with his eyes while his cock bobs between them.  “I promise.”

“Forgive me if I’m doubtful, friend.  But do try.”  He lays down flat again and closes his eyes, his face a picture of resigned concentration.  And a little light bulb goes off in Jim’s head.

“I’m not Ed.  Or anyone else who’s tried to hurt you, you know.” He feels mechanical, rolling the rubber on and slicking his finger, even taking the time to properly stretch the tense body underneath him feels kind of far-away with Oswald hiding.  He wonders just how it’s been for the smaller man.  But he’d hate to think this sordid little tryst really was the Penguin's first experience and all that talk earlier _was_ just theory.  Jim lines his cock up, leaving the head pressed to the ring but not pushing in.  “Hey.  Look at me.  I need to know you trust me.”  He squeezes Oswald’s thighs until he finally gets attention. 

Oswald lets out a small sound, his body still so tense.  “How much more trusting can someone get?  It's not like you’ll repay the favor in the long term.  You are always, always distrusting me and never once do you think on the fact that I am your one true ally in this filthy city.  The only person ready to go to bat for you at every turn and still, even here bare-ass in this damn bed…”

“Hush.”  Jim moves forward, taking Oswald by surprise.  And the wide-eyed look he gets is worth whatever chewing out he’ll get later.  With a roll of his hips, Jim pushes in a couple inches, slides out and in again to settle fully sheathed and staring down at Oswald.

Oswald whimpers and Jim automatically tries to pull away but Oswald grabs him by the shoulders.  “Wait, no.  Just wait.  It’ll pass.”

“Are you okay?”

“My leg and ankle and knee and hip and…”  He laughs a little bitterly, “It’s all just a knot of pain sometimes, but it will get better.  Just give me a moment.”

“I could kiss it better?”  Jim says it only half joking, but the look Oswald gives him nearly breaks his heart.  “Hey, now.  Come on.   Don’t look like that…”

“You think I’m a joke.”

“No,” says Jim, wondering why he couldn’t just do like he was told earlier.  “I’m sorry.  Again.  Please don’t cry.  I hate seeing you cry,” he says honestly.  He bends down and steals a soft kiss.  “And I especially hate when I’m the cause.  I respect you, Oswald.  I really do.”

Oswald chuffs out a soggy-sounding laugh.  “Really?  You’re not just humoring me because you want to get off?”

Jim sighs, thinking there are not enough words to deal with Oswald’s insecurities.  He shakes his head and gives the Penguin another soft kiss.  “Can I move now?”

There’s a little frown line between Oswald’s brow, but he looks younger somehow.  Vulnerable, open, and wet-eyed.  He gives Jim a little nod and the movement between them is evenly paced.  It seems to go on forever.  Jim keeps his balance and keeps his weight off Oswald’s hips.  Until the in and out, and slick stretching becomes easier and then slowly, slowly becomes too much.  Jim struggles to restrain himself from snapping forward and burying himself in the heat and tightness of Oswald’s channel.  And Oswald’s once uninterested cock is twitching curled up between them, the slit dripping and sticking to Jim’s belly with every thrust and slap of skin. 

Oswald keeps his hands on Jim’s shoulder.  He pants, “If you would be so kind as to lend a hand, friend.  I’d much appreciate it.”  His back arches when Jim finally does so, giving him a tight squeeze from root to tip.  “Oh!  That’s it.  That’s very… Ah,” he gasps while shutting his eyes tight.  “…Jim.”

Jim braves on being controlled while the body under him seizes, Oswald stains his chest and belly with come.  All the tension in his body seems to melt and he sags with a dark blush on his cheeks and his mouth open.

“Fuck,” says Jim again.  Oswald only smiles, while blinking up at him slowly.  It’s the most coquettish look Jim’s ever seen from the man and it revs something up in him.  “Oh, fuck.”

“Come on,” says Oswald.  “Don’t wait.  Do it.  Do it anything you want.  In this moment, I’m yours.”  He pulls Jim down until he can whisper in his ear, “In a way, I’ve been yours since that day on the dock.  My first little death.”  His voice is low and somber and going straight to Jim’s dick.  “Come on, Detective.  Captain.  Commissioner?  Whatever it is you want, I will give it to you...”  He bites down Jim’s ear and that’s it.  That’s the last straw.

Jim backs away enough to look him in the eye and wrap his hand around Oswald’s neck again. “You know what you're telling me?”

Oswald gives him a half smile and tilts his head up, not minding the squeeze or threat of Jim’s fingers.  “Anything you want, Jim.”

“Fuck,” says Jim snapping.  He thrusts faster and harder, every snap of his hips to chasing his own orgasm while staring down at Oswald.  He can’t tell if he’s angry at the thought of getting things from Oswald or owing him.  Or if he’s just tired and sore from a week of screw-ups and in desperate need of release.  He pins Oswald down, minding the bad leg but not treating him like glass.  And Oswald glows.  His breath catching with every stroke and his cock trying to take an interest in the new rhythm.  When Jim finally comes, it's with Oswald shaking under him as if he’d had second, but dry orgasm.  He looks even more blissful, content to just lie there biting his bottom lip.

Jim collapses to the side and pulls Oswald up into his arms.  He doesn’t hesitate to kiss him on the top of the head.

“Interesting,” says Oswald after some time.  He looks up at Jim and smiles, “I wonder if we could use this to our advantage.  Unless of course, you want to pretend it never happened.”

It takes Jim a moment to put two and two together.  “Oh, for the love… you want to rub Ed’s nose in this?”

“And why not?  He’s out there right now being all _gangly_ on top of your former Mrs. Gordon.”

“She wasn’t,” Jim sighs.  “It doesn’t matter.  I don’t sleep with people for revenge, Oswald.”

Oswald makes a face like Jim said something especially stupid, “Why on Earth not?” He blinks and yawns and stretches before turning to nuzzle his face in Jim’s chest.  “What’s the point of sex if not to wield power over someone for some reason.”

“Gee, I don’t know, Oswald.”  He doesn’t give a proper answer but thinks its a shame no one already clued Oswald in on the reasons.  Jim opts to keep quiet and holds Oswald until he is finally sleeping peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone familiar with me knows about a couple years ago when I broke my ankle and how the next six months I was horny as fuck and terribly uncomfortable? And I took it out on Charles Xavier. :P


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Chapter due to Anxiety.

Getting back into the GCPD is not going to plan.  Ed smirks at Jim while circling like a shark.  Blood rushes to his head while he hangs upside down over a bed of sharp, rusty knives.  “It’d be within my rights to throw up on your shoes right now.”

Ed cackles, dancing around Jim a little faster before bending down to look Jim in the eye.  “Hey. Guess what I’m getting Lee for our 60-day anniversary?”

Jim sighs, “Are you serious… you’re counting days…”  He rolls his eyes but that only makes his head hurt more.  “If you want my opinion, I don’t have one.  We never really got into the gift thing,” he says honestly.  Lee said herself, It was just enough for Jim to come home without being shot.  But no one’s told Ed that the thing Lee values most is people.  And Jim can just guess what dramatic, lavish thing he’s planning.

Ed grins, preparing to show off what he’s stolen or bought, or killed for the anniversary.  But the room echoes with a loud boom.  Jim wishes he could cover his ears and Ed rushes to the door, only for it to slam open and knock him into the wall.

“Honey!  I’m home!”

“Oswald?”

The Penguin pays no attention to Ed scrambling in the background and walks over to Jim, his cane clacking with every step.  Jim notices the tip is covered is in someone’s blood but Penguin looks clean and fresh.  He even smells like he just came out of the bath.  They're eye to eye with Jim still upside down.  “You look terrible, dear.  You’re absolutely covered in boo-boos.” 

Ed tries to right himself, only to be knocked down by a large unnamed thug.  Jim can’t help smirking at him, “Tell me about.  Could ya kiss it better?”

Ed gasps and gets knocked down again.  Oswald beams and does Jim asked.  He gives Jim a sweet little kiss on his bruised chin, then one over his eye, and on the tip of his nose.  “There.  Angel blessed, as Mother would say.”

“Oswald!”  Ed struggles in the thug's arms long enough to get attention from whoever helped him tie Jim.  Soon the room is full of two factions while Jim is let down carefully by another one of Oswald’s men.  Ed is at a lost for words, except to say ‘Oswald!’ every few seconds.  As if that were an answer.

Lee struts into the room with a gun in her hand.  “What the hell is going on in here?”  She takes one look at Jim and the bed of knives and rolls her eyes.  “Honestly, Edward.  I leave you alone for one day.”

“That’s not the point here!  They… look at them!”  He points a finger at Oswald.  “They are clearly up to something!”

Lee and Oswald share a look that is terribly close.  One might wonder if they were related.  Jim shrugs and answers, “Only thing I was up, was a rope.”

“Yes,” agrees Oswald.  “Your man lost his marbles and I’m just here to fetch what’s mine.”  He slips an arm under Jim.  “Shall we?  I’ve made reservations.”

Lee seems more amused than put off.  “You don’t say.  I always thought Jim had a sweet spot for you.”

“Boy does he!”  Oswald laughs and has the audacity to slap Jim on the ass while his men all laugh.  Jim feels like a prized horse being showed off.  But he's too tired to care.

“Oswald!”  Ed looks scandalized but Lee orders her men to clear out.  She keeps a hand on Ed’s collar and pulls him back. 

"That's enough out of you, mister.  You went way off base.  Oz and I have still a truce."

Oswald gives her a little bow and Jim gives her a confused shrug.  He's not sure how he got to this place, or how Oswald found him.  But he doesn’t mind being rescued without exchanging gunfire for a change.  He follows Oswald to the door and in crossing, can’t help giving Ed the biggest smile.  “See ya around guys.”  He gives Lee a wink, and she actually giggles a little and waves them off while Ed stands there, gawping from her leash.

Once outside, Jim thinks about running off on his own, but Oswald doesn’t insist he follow him.  He just climbs into his armored car.  Jim hesitates for a few seconds before limping up to the window, “Is there really reservations?  Cause I could eat.  If you’re paying.”

Oswald lights up and opens the door for Jim to get in.  “You continue to surprise me, Captain Gordon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, my main OTP is everyone/everyone and I would be so very down with Lee getting everyone to stop what they're doing for a polyamory sleepover. In fact, I might write that.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
> Feedback  
> • Kudos  
> • Short comments  
> • Long comments  
> • Questions  
> • Constructive criticism  
> • “<3” as extra kudos  
> • Reader-reader interaction
> 
> _*But Kudos, especially, that damn hit to kudos ratio informs me on whether something I’ve posted is liked, and I’m reluctant to keep working on things read, but not liked._
> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)  
>     
> Author Responses  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments, but may not reply.  
>  _*If I don’t reply with an automatic Thanks, I may just be busy with my full-time work or RL issues and complications. I see all comments and really do appreciate it, as noted in most chapter updates._  
>  Whisper  
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason ( _I myself get anxiety when trying to think of replies,_ ) feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond. Thank you for reading.


End file.
